


Cowboy Romance

by Kenta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Cowboy Dean, Cowboy Sam, Gunplay, Leather, M/M, Necrophilia, Smoking, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenta/pseuds/Kenta
Summary: Dean and Sam are young and in love, wanting to experience new experiences. From smoking to dressing up as Cowboys the story is a wild ride!





	

An errant tumbleweed blows past somewhere off in the distance. It seemed to be the only thing that was moving as their eyes focused on each other, staring each other down from opposite sides of the street. One of the two stood in blue jeans of a deep azure of the pants. His shirt was colored a deep blood red, colluded perfectly with the jeans in a pleasing aesthetic. He took a starting step, the crunch of the gravel under his black Converse louder than he'd expected

His hand hangs carelessly, a few fingers touching a gun belt. The holster tied to his leg held a Colt Peacemaker. Something about the weight of the weapon appealed to him as he thought of the gunfights of old, fights that usually came down to speed and accuracy. All of these thoughts and more came to him as he stared at his opponent across from him.

The opponent was the older of the two, lost in in billowing cloud of cigarette smoke. Through it a dark gray T-shirt could be seen. His hair had found that unique place between completely unkempt and strangely stylish. His Nikes brought up dust as he stomped, steadying himself amid the red dirt. The cigarette is cast aside as the two continue to give each other that mile long stare.

As if each knew the moment had come, they draw. The cigarette smoker drew a hair of a second quicker and his Converse wearing compatriot falls backwards with a finite sort of sound. As he walks toward him he lights another cigarette and takes a long draw from it. Once he reaches him he looks down at him. There was a peaceful sort of look on his face. With a quick chuckle, he kicks him in his side.

"Ouch. Damn it, Dean..."

"Get up, Sam."

There was a touch of impatience in his voice as he admonished Sam. He heard it and looked up at him, the merest trace of a pout.

"But you shot me."

"They're blanks, dumbass. So get up."

Dean flicks away the cigarette and offers his hand to his fallen friend. Sam grips his wrist and stands to his feet again. Dean smiles at him softly as he watches Sam busy himself with getting the red dirt from the back of his jeans. He happened to look up at Dean as he reached into his pocket for a lighter.

"Another cigarette, huh?"

Dean rolls his eyes, heaving a heavy sigh as he clicks his Zippo to life and brings it towards his cigarette.

"You see me lighting it, right? Seems dumb to ask..."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be a good friend. That's all."

"I appreciate it. But...I smoke. Will I smoke forever? Don't know. But you pestering me about it won't make me stop."

The slightest of frowns crosses his face only to replaced by a sly smirk.

"Fine. Maybe I should tell your parents. Maybe they can make you stop."

Sam got the reaction he had been looking for. Although he was a tough guy by definition Sam knew Dean well enough to know how much he feared and respected his parents. What he hadn't expected was Dean to walk towards him, letting his gun belt fall as he removed it.

"My parents don't know and you're not gonna tell them..."

"And what if I do?"

The statement had been simple enough. He had moved closer to face Dean, allowing his own weapon and gun belt fall as he spoke them. Sam didn't count himself as tough but he could never be called a pushover. Even if he gave up an inch or two of height to Dean he wasn't going to back down. Dean nods slightly, raising an eyebrow as he spoke again.

"Keep playing, Sam. You better not tell them."

"And what if I do, Dean?"

It was in that moment that Dean answered with a rough tackle to Sam's midsection. It was unexpected but Sam fought back, giving as good as he got. They tousled through the dirt for a few minutes until Sam pins Dean. By way of a response Dean merely looks up into Sam's eyes and smirks.

"Sooo...what happens next, Sam? Looks like you're on top..."

There was a tense moment where the two are just looking at each other. They continue looking at each other, no answers given by Sam and no more words from Dean. Slowly the two lean in and kiss softly, tenderly. From there Sam slowly stands up, offering his hand to Dean this time. Taking it, he stands and picks up his gun belt. A smile plays about the corner of his mouth. In spite of himself Sam smiles back and chuckles a bit.

"What?"

"That kiss."

"What about it?"

"Nothing. It was just really nice."

"It was."

It had been a year ago since the two had told each other how they felt. Although eleven seemed like a strange age to be talking about love or soul mates but neither could keep the friendship just what it was. They had been friends since kindergarten. Both had connected with their love for Webster's and the cowboy culture. Both Sam and Dean always spent his Sunday afternoons with his father watching old cowboy movies. This shared love of the genre, truth be told, was what really began their feelings for each other. Now at twelve the two are attempting to see where they go next. None of their parents knew. Dean had trusted his aunt Brenda with his secret and she'd been understanding enough. While his parents  were away Brenda checked in on her nephew before heading home. 

"Can I kiss you again?"

It was a simple question that escaped Sam's lips. No words were exchanged but Dean merely leaned close and kissed Sam deeply, thankful there were no prying eyes staring at them. Their tongues caress and Sam tastes the tobacco on his breath. Admittedly he despised his smoking but he somehow enjoys the taste of the tobacco on his lips. Truth be told he even like  watching him blow smoke rings occasionally from those same lips. As they pull apart a question comes again, this time coming from Dean.

"So you want to try your hand at beating the fastest draw in the West again?"

The scoff was accompanied by a chuckle and a glint of danger in Sam's eyes.

"If that were even true that you're faster than me...but yeah. Let's go again. One request, though."

"Shoot."

"Funny. But I was thinking we go all out. Full cowboy dress. That is unless you think your Stetson will make you lose quicker."

"You're talking a lot of shit for someone who got outclassed last time. You're on, Kendicks."

It was rare that Dean called Sam by his surname alone. It annoyed him in that certain way both friends and lovers are adept at doing. Being that the two were both it was a strong statement in the broad scheme of things. With the briefest of nods the two head into the house to dress for a rematch, visions of John Wayne and Gary Cooper heavy amongst their thoughts.  Each grabs their attire and heads to a different room. After about five to ten minutes they emerge.

Sam dressed in the fashion you would expect from heroes in those old westerns. He wore a brown colored Stetson atop his head and a red scarf around his neck. His shirt was of a pale blue color and was topped with a black leather vest. There were black leather chaps over give his deep blue shorts and black boots outfitted with spurs. For a second he admired the look before heading from the room. Spurs clicked and rang as he descended the stairs of the house. Sitting in the den with spurs on was a difficult affair given the spurs but he somehow negotiated it into a somewhat comfortable position. Once he was situated he sat and waited for Dean, passing his time by twirling his Colt around his index finger then intermittently pointing it. Dean's voice startled him.

"Someone's been practicing their gun work, I see..."

When Sam looked over his shoulder he understood why he hadn't heard Dean and he'd startled him so easily. It was mostly because he'd carried his spurred boots under his arms. Aside from that he was fully dressed. His attire was a bit different from Sam's. Dean wore a long duster coat of black and a white shirt with a blue scarf. The hat on his head matched the duster well, a beautiful black Stetson with a white band. Even the boots took on the same color. His gun belt hung at his hip with a casual sort of grace. Even the unlit cigarette between his lips added to his looks. Similarly Dean gave Sam a lingering once over that included a sly little smile playing about his mouth.

"You ready, Kendricks?"

"I wish you'd stop with that, Dean."

A soft chuckle escapes from between his lips as Dean looks over at Sam.

"Fine, I'll stop. Stop being a little bitch, OK?"

"We'll see who the bitch is on the draw, Sloane..."

"Someone's getting their stones out of their purse. I like it. Let's do this."

Maybe it was something in the way he'd said the words but it sparked the idea inside Sam's imagination. Dean, finally having put on his boots, rings loudly with each step. His progress is stopped by a tug at his coat. He turns to see Sam walking towards him, his spurs adding their sound to the room. Although he was usually calm and collected he felt his heart pound as their lips and tongues intertwined, the cigarette having fallen from his lips what seemed like an eternity before. While they kissed passionately with Dean's brown hair falling between them time seemed to stop. Once more Sam tasted the ever present taste of cigarettes as they kissed  and once more he felt that taste driving him wild once more. The two stood there like that, pressed against each other for the better part of ten minutes. Despite the passion consuming them they break apart.

Sam speaks, panting slightly as if he'd run miles in mere moments.

"Someone looks happy to see me..."

Sam's eyes fall on the erection that was stretching the front of Dean' s black jeans as if trying to escape. Dean's face flushes for only a second until his eyes fall upon a similar situation going on inside Sam's jeans. That roguish smirk manifests again along with a simple reply.

"I think I could say the same, Sam."

Sam looked down at his own throbbing erection and, without a trace of embarrassment, he asks the question.

"So what happens next, Dean?"

At this Dean stepped back from Sam and slowly took of his long coat. He throws it on a nearby chair and turns his attention back to Sam. With his right hand he pushes him backwards to fall on the couch directly behind him. Sam fell back in with the sounds of cloth, leather slapping, and the brief ringing of the spurs. Within a few steps Dean was so close to Sam that their legs were very close to touching. In a fluid little motion Dean pushed an errant strand of his hair from his face and drew his gun. There was a quick twirl of the weapon before he began rubbing the hard weapon on another hard weapon. The meeting of the Colt with his erection sent a chill down Sam's spine. To relieve the euphoria or maybe express it he.would occasionally grunt softly. Sam marvelled inwardly at how thorough Dean was. He'd alternate between caressing both balls with the tip of the barrel or running the barrel down the length of his shaft. Ever so often he'd ask him a question in a lascivious and oddly sexy voice.

"You like that, Sam...?"

"Soooo much..."

"Good."

On the next rotation he pleased his erection with a combination of kisses through the jeans, rough grasps, and the handle of the Colt. These things more than anything else made Sam throw his head back and close his eyes tightly. To match the escalation of motions Sam's responses became whispered expletives and heavy breathing.

"Shit....don't stop..."

As ideas usually come when you least expect them, one came to Sam somewhere amid the pleasure he was receiving from both the Colt and from Dean. The problem then became relating it while his body was tingling the way it was.

"Ar-Dean...?"

"Yes?"

"Could you...could you...?"

"Tell me."

There was a roughness in his voice, almost as if he'd strike Sam to get to the truth of the matter. Sam recognized it and once again to articulate it.

"Could you take your gun and...cock it against my erection?"

The request itself was an odd one. There a moment of hesitation as he spins the pistol on his index finger and catches it. Upon the the third rotation he places it against Sam's erect member. Slowly he clocks back the hammer on the Colt and pulled the trigger. The vibrations send a new set of sensations through Sam's body. Dean watches Sam squirm with each cocking of the hammer and with each pulling of the trigger. More to increase the unpredictability and enhance the moment there were times when Dean stroked the erection at length with the gun barrel. It got to a point where Sam was gripping the back of the couch to hold back every exquisite and torturous moment of pleasure, almost biting blood from his bottom lip as he tried to stem the excitement.

All at once the pleasure stops. Part of Sam was disappointed by the ebbing of all of the untold pleasures he'd been party to in those thirty minutes. Yet another part, the louder part, was content in that moment with slowing down. The reason didn't truly matter to Sam but Dean shared it all the same.

"I need a cigarette. Wanna keep me company while I smoke?"

"Sure. Lead the way."

Two sets of spurs ring loudly as the two walk towards the back door of the house. The backyard looked like a lush oasis in the middle of a desert which, essentially, it was. There was a tall wooden fence that hid them from view as if they were invisible. Dean and Sam sit next to each other on the second step. In a true testament to his smoker's nature there is a moment where he searches his cowboy regalia for his Zippo. Within that two minute period Sam chuckles softly as Dean whispers exasperated profanities under his breath. After he finally finds the lighter he clicks it to life, lighting the cigarette between his lips. His first pull is deep and the exhale comes out like a plume of steady smoke. Between blowing smoke rings and doing French inhales Dean kisses Sam on occasion. Each pressing together of their lips is accompanied by caresses of the tongue and the smoke invading Sam's mouth. To him secondhand smoke had never been so beautiful. Without much effort Sam felt that odd attraction to Dean' s smoking welling up inside him again. Maybe it was that particular feeling more that anything else that made him say what he said next.

"Can I try?"

Dean's reaction was what Sam had expected, truthfully. He laughed out loud for a second, holding the cigarette day between his two fingers.

"The hell you say..."

"I'm serious, Dean. Let me try."

"As often as you make me feel bad about smoking...now you wanna try? Sounds like a set up to me."

"So you don't trust me now?"

"Calm down. It's nothing so serious as that. Just a bit dubious."

"So is that a no?"

There isn't an immediate answer to this question. Dean takes a moment to think before he says anything else. Every so often he would look up from his thoughts to see Sam framing him with a searching sort of look. With a soft, almost inaudible sigh he hands Sam the lit cigarette.

"Here you go."

Dean takes the cigarette between his fingers like he'd seen Arden do so many times before. It was an awkward thing for him, all things considered. Putting the cigarette between his lips he tasted faint traces of Dean's lips on the filter. This spurs the first inhale. It isn't overly deep but he still coughs loudly and violently. In an attempt at being considerate Dean stifles his laughter as much as he can. Sam ignores him, consideration or not. His next inhale goes a bit better than the first, no coughing present this time. A thick cloud of smoke escapes his mouth and it is somehow satisfying for him to see it. The next drag is more controlled, more confident. Attempting to be a bit more daring he blows the smoke out both nostrils. The fourth pull on the cigarette gives Sam the idea. After the inhale he kisses Dean deeply, the smoke intermingled with tongues and saliva. Everything about this turns on Dean on and he can feel his erection growing. With a quick look at Sam's crotch he sees a similar transformation taking place.

It was all said with a glance, nothing more than a wink.

The two begin to slowly, deliberately taking off their clothing. Article by article is taken off to leave only bare skin and quiet Intent. There was a moment before the boots were thrown off that the two were undoing their gun belts when they were struck with an inspiration. It was Sam who voiced it.

"Maybe we should leave the gun belts on..."

Dean agrees without a word. He carefully takes off the gun belt and then everything else. Sam finds himself stopping and watching Dean putting on his gun belt once more. A subtle little smirk appears as he sees Sam staring at his now visible erection. In that moment he realized that not only was Sam equally naked but slowly stroking his own erection. The two approach other, touching each other all over amid passionate kisses and skin to skin contact. Dean grips Sam's backside in both hands as he sucks furiously on his neck. Somehow, given the limited space between the two, Sam strokes Arden's erect penis in a deliberate and thorough motion. Despite the pleasure running through his body Dean was still somehow able to continue his perfect impression of a vacuum cleaner attached to someone's neck.

"Mmmm..."

The grunt escapes Dean's lips slowly as Sam explores his naked skin with kisses, soft caresses, and the occasional bite. He continued stroking him as his tongue teased both nipples and his neck. The systematic pleasures continued for some ten to fifteen minutes until Dean pushes him onto the steps in much the same way he'd been positioned on them. Dean looks Sam up and down for a moment. His mouth forms the words and they tumble over his lips.

"My turn now, Sam..."

Dean's approach was somewhat different. His tongue traced lines all over Sam's skin. It started first with circular motions around his navel while cupping both of his balls, massaging them roughly. With his eyes tightly closed Sam was overcome once again by Dean's expert motions. He found himself lost in euphoria as Arden turned his attention towards his inner thighs and licking every inch of skin there. His tongue continued to make magic wherever it touched for about twenty minutes until Sam turns the tables. His words were breathy but  intelligible.

"Tag. I'm it."

It impressed Dean that Sam was so apt at perfectly emulating everything he'd just done. Every touch was ecstasy to Dean and he never wanted it to end. Sam's tongue drew shaped, penned sentences, and charted constellations all over him and he was trying to keep himself composed. Despite it, another moan of.pleasure escapes.

"Mmmmm. So good..."

 All at once Sam takes Dean deep into his mouth, gagging slightly on his length. His head bobbed up and down to a steady rhythm and matched the rhythm of his stroking of himself. Each of the speeds increase and both grunt their pleasures out loud, coming that much closer to a climax.

Closer and closer...

Then...

"You owe me a rematch, Sloane. Let's go."

Dean noticed the sudden stop of the pleasure.The end of it made him notice that Sam had gotten to his feet and was in a stance that suggested he was primed and ready for his rematch. Getting to his feet Dean walks into the house for a moment. Sam didn't have long to wait or wonder where he'd gone because after a minute he returned. In his hand were two cigars. He tosses one to Sam and smiles.

"Gotta do this right..."

A smirk meets these words as Sam speaks.

"Someone's taking their love for A Fistful Of Dollars a bit too far...but I like it. Toss me your lighter."

Dean, having already lit his cigar, tosses his lighter to Sam.

"Don't burn yourself, Sam..."

"Shut up, Dean."

"Ten paces and we draw. Are you good with that?"

"Works for me."

The two turn their backs to each and take the steps, both leaving a trail of cigar smoke in their wake. Upon the tenth step and both turn and draw. This time Dean is a fraction of a second slower and is outdrawn by Sam. Dean, true to the rules, falls to his knees. The cigar tumbles from his lips and hits the ground. Sam slowly walks over towards him. He turns him over and sees the blood on his chest. His first thought was to question where the blood had come from but his eyes were drawn to his growing erection. Sam takes a long draw on his cigar and slowly gets to his knees. With the cigar in hand he places the lit tip to the shaft of his dick.

The reaction was unexpected.

"Shit..."

Arden reacted to both the slight pain and the waves of pleasure he got from the lit cigar. The same pleasure was increased when his dick was plunged into Sam's mouth and burnt with the cigar again. This process is repeated about five times until a small abrasion appeared in the spot. Ecstasy took over his body again as Dean is positioned on all fours. He places the cigar to Dean's lips and he takes a long draw. Slowly and carefully Sam slides his length into Dean. There was the slightest gasp that came from Dean as he feels Sam inside him deep.

"Ready?"

It was a simple question. Sam hadn't moved an inch since sliding into Dean. All he'd done was continued smoking his cigar. The answer was a mixture of ecstasy, nervousness, and excitement.

"Yes..."

Sam began stroking very slowly at first, allowing Dean to grow accustomed to the feeling and to his size. Both let go of small groans and grunts of pleasure intermittently. Every bit of momentum and friction increases the intensity of their sounds. A whisper, full of wanton lust, rends the air.

"Go faster..."

Obliging without a word Sam quickness the pace, going deeper and deeper inside his depths. The grunts and moans are more frequent now. The cigar has long since been abandoned. Sam's hands were busy elsewhere. One hand gripped Dean's waist while the other stroked his dick with the same rhythm he was sliding into him. As they continue this way the pace becomes more rough, more animalistic. Every stroke slammed Sam that much deeper into Dean. There was even a point where he gripped a handful of Dean's hair in his passion. For about twenty minutes the two had been going hot and both felt the climax coming. Maybe that was why Dean arched his back the way he did and why Sam strokes even faster. Dean felt came first, the feeling of Sam's hand too great to resist any longer. His cum sprays, mostly on the grass. A few spurts get onto Sam's hands, spurts that Sam licks up greedily.  Over and over Sam bottoms out inside Dean until he cums deep inside Dean's ass. The climax ripples through his body as he collapses on top of Dean. Before he passed out, spent from all his exertions, he whispered softly in Arden's ear.

"Bang."

** EPILOGUE **

It had been about five years since the "infamous gunfight" as Dean and Sam had taken to calling it. A few things had changed since then. Both had grown to about 6'2 and more handsome in their own looks and ways. They had gone public with their relationship. They got about the reactions they had expected from the people at school. Yet somehow, amid the jokes and being called every colloquium for homosexual, neither seemed to mind as they walked hand in hand. Surprisingly their parents were supportive. Dean's parents were happy that their son had found someone who made him happy. It shocked Sam's parents but they got over it quickly, saying they'd support him through whatever. The two of them found themselves reminiscing over it one night in the park.

"That was quite a day, Dean."

"And which part of it did you like the most?"

"Winning the gunfight was a high point...but I'm a fan of everything that happened."

"Me too. Not about the gunfight, though."

It had slipped Sam's mind that Dean had worn his gun belt to the park. But it returned to him as Arden drew the weapon and pointed it at him. He made a point of taking off the sunglasses so as to look into Sam's eyes. A trace of fear flicked across his face as he placed the Colt to his ribs.

The barrel clicks and Sam falls to the ground with a certain finality that intrigued him. Dean watches Sam lie there on his stomach, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. After his third inhale and exhale Arden kneels down and turns Sam over. After checking for a pulse that wasn't there he blows a rich plume of smoke into his face. A hand begins grope a growing bulge in Sam's jeans. All at once his free hand covers Sam's mouth as he unbuckles his pants. Sam begins to resist as Arden pulls at his jeans roughly.

"Stop it. I don't want this..."

With gun placed next tho his right ear Dean he whispers into the other ear.

"Shut the hell up. You're gonna give me exactly what I want."

Dean finally gets the jeans off despite the struggling. He rips off the boxers easily and undoes his own pants as he does. Dean's hand is still pointing the gun as his other negotiates between stroking himself and squeezing Sam's ass. The gun is holstered as he roughly kisses Sam and leans towards his ear again.

"Ready or not..."

Arden roughly enters him, his pace quick and without restraint. One hand braces him on the grass while the other muffles any sounds that Sam tries to make. To him Sam's grunts border between resistance and pleasure. This more than anything made him go that much faster, each stroke filling the depths of Sam's ass. Over and over he pounds his ass with his legs over his shoulders. After five minutes of his furious pacing Dean felt an eruption growing in his balls. He gives Sam's ass another five thrusts before pulling out.

It was then that Sam sat up, looking at Arden. His voice and his face looked genuinely disappointed.

"Why did you stop fu-...?"

The words are caught in his chest as Dean stand up over him, dick still erect and gun smoking. He had shot Sam squarely in the chest and he fell in much the same way as before. The biggest difference this time was it was real. A trickle of blood poured from Sam's mouth. His eyes are full of silent tears as he puts a hand to the wound. Sam takes his hand away and is hit with the surreal truth of seeing his own blood on his hands. He looks up at the man he loves and speaks. The words he says aren't overly loud but they were clear.

"How could you shoot me? I thought you loved me..."

Dean's answer was nonverbal, a noncommittal little shrug. His face was unreadable as he continued to stare down at him. Sam looks back at him, losing blood all the time and feeling his grip on life slackening with every moment that passed. He tried to grab for Arden but comes up short range steps backwards out of his reach. The motion takes more out of him than he expected. He wheezes and coughs, blood coming with the cough. Slowly his eyes shift out of focus intermittently, the image of his lover blurring. He musters up the strength to speak again in a whisper that was softer than the last.

"You killed me. How could you kill...me?"

It was with this that Sam closed his eyes for a moment, slowly opening them a minute later. He took in his face as he stared at him through blurry and now darkening eyes. When he closes his eyes again they don't open again. A death rattle escapes his lips as he dies, still and without any more words.

In a moment of that perfect cowboy cliche he blows on the smoking barrel, chuckling slightly as he speaks.

"Bang..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have a few more stories like this so feel free to check them out. This work has been converted to fit the site's format. Meaning character names have been changed from their original.


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